Frozen Korean tacos

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Enter the green bean casserole taco – ironic, yes, but good?

Photo by dolescum/Flickr (Creative Commons)

A colleague flagged me this week on the “12 Days of Tacos” promotion at Komida, a newish gourmet Japanese-Mexican fusion taco joint in Hollywood that has devoted fans.

It’s been a while since ethnic food fusion jumped the shark, and some of the combos that have evolved in the wake of the game-changing Kogi’s Korean taco (imitations of which are now found frozen at Costo) have been, well, not worth mentioning.

That said, Komida’s regular menu does sound pretty good. I haven’t tried it yet, but as any fan of Mexican-style sushi can tell you, it’s a flavor combo that works. And some of the 12 daily taco specials they’ll be serving until Christmas don’t look bad either – until I got to this one:

Grandma’s green bean casserole with haricot vert, roast garlic bechamel, crispy shallots.

Ironic hipster hot-dish kitsch overload in a tortilla? If it had to happen anywhere, it had to be L.A.

The uber-hip taco is set to be served Monday. The question is whether it’ll taste good. I’ll admit that green bean casserole (replete with canned mushroom soup as a base) is one of the feel-good Americana items I make each year for my family’s otherwise non-traditional Thanksgiving table, and there is a heavily comforting element to its mushy mouthfeel. Even the color, which recalls abuelita’s 1970s-era sofa, is something soothing.

Between now and Christmas, in addition to truly tasty-sounding combos like tacos made with roast turkey and agave-glazed ham, there will be more taco irony: A “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” taco with grilled venison and ginger-cherry salsa (which actually sounds good if you’re into that sort of thing) and a “fruit cake with with figgy pudding” taco, which I suspect will have to taste better than it sounds. These are professionals, after all.

But it’s the green beans that leave me no choice but to try and make it to Hollywood for lunch Monday. Can an ironic taco please the taste buds, or will a pit stop at Dos Burritos down the street be necessary afterward? All good either way.

And now, the frozen Korean ‘street’ taco

 

Photo by pchow98/Flickr (Creative Commons)

By the time an item titled “Korean BBQ Steak Tacos” appeared on the menu at California Pizza Kitchen last year, the defining edible metaphor for 2010s-era Los Angeles had taken a considerable journey.

Pioneered by L.A.’s Kogi taco trucks, the simple but yummy combo of Korean barbecue on the inside, Mexican corn tortilla on the outside had by then spread throughout the country, with copycat Korean taco vendors plying the streets of Portland and Austin and restaurants serving their own versions from San Francisco to Atlanta.

But the jump-the-shark moment for the beloved multi-culti taco has come courtesy of the frozen-food label Bamboo Lane, purveyors of the frozen Korean beef “street tacos” being sold at Costco. Blogger Gary Soup of Geezericious wrote about the frozen tacos earlier this month. His post was followed by reactions on a variety of sites, from Korean culture sites to the SF Weekly, whose headline the other day was filed under a category called “WTF?”

From Soup’s blog:

“No more waiting in lines behind the masses following the taco truck craze,” says the copy on the back of the Bamboo Lane Korean Brand Beef Street Tacos box. “Bamboo Lane has delivered the sensation of Korean style beef tacos to your own kitchen. You can now prepare these delectable tacos by wrapping our succulent Korean BBQ beef strips with our hand pressed soft tortillas and adding shredded monterey jack and cheddar cheese. Make it your very own by adding cabbage, lettuce or cilantro or your favorite vegetables. To top it off and give it an additional kick, drizzle the taco with our mouth watering sriracha sauce. These tacos will make you go loco (‘crazy’) for more!”

In his post he cited a food blog in Hawaii that reviewed the assemble-at-home frozen preparation and gave it a thumbs-up. Still, it’s weird.

Frozen Korean street taco, meet your predecessor, the frozen “bistro” panini.